


The Warm Winter Heart

by lustmordred



Series: Heart [2]
Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lustmordred/pseuds/lustmordred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their secret is out. Some people are shocked, some aren’t, and some just really need to get over it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warm Winter Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to The Tom-Tom Heart.

It’s a cold autumn night in late October and they all drive out to the country for Pogue’s birthday. This isn’t anything special for him, not a treat or a surprise; it is a precaution. They can’t let anyone see this. Strange weather patterns, freak thunder and lightning storms; magic. Protecting each other’s secret is how the covenant has kept them all safe for so long. Still, they can’t let Pogue go through his ascension alone. They could not be with Caleb for his, but they would have been if it had been possible. Each of them knows that their own time will come and none of them want to experience it alone.

They stand at a distance from him and Pogue stands by himself about twenty feet away and they wait. They give him enough space that their own bodies won’t interfere when the power reaches down and takes him, but they remain close and watch. Pogue stands in the field with his head down, his heart thundering in his chest, his breathing shallow and rapid as he counts down the last minutes in his head, and he feels isolated anyway.

 _Breathe,_ Tyler whispers in his mind. _Just breathe._

Pogue laughs and his head comes up to look for him. He meets Tyler’s eyes and Tyler smiles back at him. Pogue takes a deep breath.

Caleb and Reid notice this exchange and share a confused look, but they don’t have time to ask about it even if they were brave enough to finally hear the truth. Something is going on, they both know it. Something has been going on for a while now, but now is not the time or place for worrying about it.

Wind alight with the power of the earth bends the grass of the field flat to the ground and, when it reaches Pogue, it rushes through him and lifts him off his feet. Lightning crashes around them all, drawing toward Pogue over the field, leaving scorched earth in its wake until it reaches him and slips through his body like the fingers of God. Pogue screams as his body is lifted into the air above them and electricity slams through him every time the sky lights up with lightning. Like plumes of smoke and fog, power flies from the ground, from grass, from the very air and it sinks into his flesh. Each bolt of lightening that punches through him feels like it’s going to shatter him from the inside out like glass. He closes his eyes, his teeth aching and his brain bright with flashes of pain as the power swells inside him. It lights up his nerves and slides along his limbs, such excruciating pain, so much _power_ that he thinks there’s no way he can stand it. If he doesn’t pass out, he’ll soon die.

Pogue’s back bows until it looks completely unnatural, until it looks like it will break if he bends even a little more, then finally his body _does_ shatter. It bursts apart into a thousand prismatic pieces and they fall to the ground like rain. They come together again as they reach the earth and reform. For a moment, Pogue is kneeling there and he’s as transparent and fluid as water. Then he’s solid again and he’s on his knees shaking and gasping. He goes limp, slumping and letting his head fall back as he breathes deeply of the sweet-smelling air.

Tyler’s hands are suddenly on him and Pogue doesn’t have the energy or the heart to push him away or tell him to stop. He can’t even remember why he should. Tyler’s on his knees in front of him and his hands are on the back of Pogue’s neck and in his hair, trying to lift his head. Pogue moans in protest and tries feebly to fend him off. Tyler’s whispering frantically and Pogue can’t make sense of the words, either. It’s all making his oversensitive skin jump and twitch.

Finally, Pogue just puts his arms around Tyler and pulls his tense body tight against him. “Shh, stop it,” he mutters.

“You’re okay?” Tyler says, turning his face into the curve of Pogue’s shoulder. “Just tell me you’re alive, okay?”

Pogue chuffs soft, tired laughter and lifts his head to rest his chin on Tyler’s shoulder. He sees Reid and Caleb standing there across from them still twenty feet away and he remembers why he was supposed to make Tyler stop. He sighs.

“Cat’s out of the bag now, baby,” he mumbles in Tyler’s ear.

Tyler doesn’t say anything, but he goes tense all over again and Pogue knows he’s heard him.

Reid is the first to move. He closes his mouth, which has fallen open in his utter shock, looks around at Caleb who continues to just stare, then says, “Wow.” He looks back at Tyler and Pogue kneeling in the dry grass, licks his lips and laughs a little. “Whoa,” he says.

“Shut up, Reid,” Caleb says.

Reid ignores him and goes over to Pogue and Tyler to help them both up. “Jesus fucking Christ, you guys!” Reid exclaims. He lets Tyler go and hauls Pogue, who is still shaky, to his feet. “Jesus Christ! Talk about knocking a guy on his ass, and I’m not talking about the ascension because _holy shit_. Caleb! Hey, come here! Did you know about this shit?!”

Reid whirls around on his heel looking for Caleb and almost falls over. Caleb isn’t there behind him, though. He isn’t even still standing there twenty feet away. His back is to them all and he’s walking away, going down the dirt road toward where his car is parked down by the highway.

“Caleb, where you going, man?!” Reid calls after him, throwing his arms out to his sides. Something clicks and Reid frowns, not wanting to believe what he is beginning to suspect. “Come on, Caleb! Don’t be an asshole! Come back!”

Caleb raises one hand and waves it in a sharp, dismissive gesture. He keeps walking away and is soon out of sight.

“Fuck him,” Tyler says, watching Caleb walk away.

“You don’t mean that,” Pogue says.

“I do if he’s going to be a dick about it,” Tyler snaps.

Pogue holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender and shakes his head. He is not in the mood to fight or argue and, though he won’t admit it, Caleb walking away from him like that hurts. “Let’s just go,” he says.

“Okay, cool. Where?” Reid says. “You wanna go out to Nicky’s? Have a few drinks, you know, toast your birthday? Dude, it’s your birthday!”

Pogue makes a dismissive sound in his throat and slips an arm around Tyler’s waist as they start walking across the field toward the dirt road. He leans over and nuzzles the side of Tyler’s neck. “What do you want to do?” he murmurs.

Tyler smiles, pleased. “I don’t know,” he says. “It _is_ your birthday. What do you want to do?”

“Yeah, but you’re driving,” Pogue says. This seems totally logical to him.

“Aw, come on, you guys. Don’t do that,” Reid says, making a face. “I mean, I’m okay with it and all. I think it’s sort of great even if I never for a minute would have thought _you_ were into dick.” He pokes Pogue’s arm for emphasis. “But I don’t know if I’m ready to see that.”

“See what?” Pogue says, grinning into the side of Tyler’s neck.

“You guys like… making out and stuff,” Reid says. “Just… give me some time to get used to the idea.”

Tyler laughs and meets Reid’s eyes over Pogue’s head. “This is _not_ making out,” he says.

“Yeah,” Reid says sheepishly, “but… you know.”

“Yeah,” Pogue says. He stands away from Tyler and drops his arm from around him. “I’m pretty beat. How about we just drop you at the dorms, Reid?”

“Okay,” Reid says, subdued. “What about you, Ty?”

Tyler shakes his head no. “Maybe later,” he says.

Understanding makes Reid a little uncomfortable. The fact that it makes him uncomfortable just makes him _more_ uncomfortable because he knows he’s not like that. Except this is Tyler and Pogue. They’re like his brothers and Tyler’s his best friend, so it’s different.

“When did this _happen_?” Reid suddenly asks. “How did I not _know_ about this?”

“A while ago,” Tyler says.

“I thought--and he agreed--that it was none of your business,” Pogue says.

“And we thought Caleb would freak out,” Tyler says.

“That, too,” Pogue says.

Reid steps in a mud puddle, trips and curses. “God, that’s cold,” he says. “But Caleb’ll get over it. You know that, right?”

Pogue shrugs. Tyler doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking.

“He’s probably just… surprised. I mean, I was,” Reid says. He thinks of something and stops walking. Pogue and Tyler keep going and Reid has to hurry to catch back up. “What about Kate?” he asks Pogue. “Is this why you broke up with Kate?”

“I didn’t actually break up with Kate,” Pogue says. “We kinda… agreed to break up.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Reid says. “No one just _agrees_ to break up. Wait, does this mean _Kate_ knew? Kate knew before I did? Oh, you guys, that is so low.”

“Kate did not know,” Pogue says.

“Kate might know,” Tyler says.

Pogue and Tyler exchange a look and Pogue nods. “Okay, maybe, but not because I told her.”

They walk in silence after this until they reach Tyler’s car. Caleb’s car is gone when they get there, but they weren’t expecting him to be there waiting. Pogue gets into the back seat before Reid can make the offer and stretches out on his back with a sigh. Reid hesitates to take his usual place in the other front seat with Tyler and then realizes that’s exactly why Pogue took the decision out of his hands in the first place and just gets into the passenger seat.

Tyler starts the car and pushes a CD into the stereo as he pulls onto the road. Machine Head comes out of the speakers and Reid rolls down his window a little.

“So, are you guys actually _doing it_?” Read abruptly says.

Pogue and Tyler both laugh. Neither one of them answers him.

~~*~~

Tyler drops Reid off at Spencer Academy in the parking lot outside of the dorms. Pogue moves into the front seat when Reid gets out of the Jeep and ruffles his blond hair as he passes him. Reid swipes at his head and ducks irritably and Pogue just laughs.

“So where are you guys going?” Reid asks. He knows they’re not just going to abandon him and go off on their own to party. That’s not really like either of them.

Pogue leans out the window. “Be careful what you ask, Reid,” he says. “Do you really want to know?”

Reid thinks about it, then shakes his head. “No.”

Tyler leans across Pogue’s lap to look out the window at Reid. “I got us a motel room at that place about a mile from Pogue’s,” Tyler says. “You want to come? I’m sure there’s a mini bar.”

Wide-eyed, Reid shakes his head no. Pogue gently pushes Tyler back behind the wheel and points at Reid. “You are _not_ coming.”

“You guys, Caleb’s going to freak,” Reid says. There isn’t much of his usual glee at the idea in the way he says this and Pogue sighs.

“Yeah, let him,” Pogue says. “He wasn’t supposed to know anyway.”

“You had to know he was going to know eventually,” Reid says.

Pogue shrugs. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Night, Reid. Thanks.”

“For what?” Reid says.

“For being cool,” Pogue says, smirking.

Reid grins. “Sure,” he says. He taps the door of the car and backs up. “Go have fun and fornicate and stuff. Oh, ew, I don’t want to think about that. But go do it, and Pogue? Happy birthday.”

Tyler pulls out of the parking lot and beeps the horn a few times at Reid on their way out. Somewhere on the second floor of the girl’s dormitory, a boy in nothing but his under shorts hangs out of the window and yells at them to fuck off.

Pogue’s cell phone rings and he takes it out to look at it. Caleb is calling him. He ignores it and tosses the phone onto the dashboard. “So, do we really have a room at a seedy motel?”

Tyler smiles and nods. “The seediest.”

~~*~~

The motel is certainly not the Ritz Carlton, but it’s not really the seediest motel in town, either. Which is good because the seediest motel in town would probably be the Blue Moon Inn over by the freeway where all the passing truckers stop and Pogue’s heard that you can get gonorrhea just from sitting in the bathtub there. While spending the night in a seedy motel together is adventurous in a trashy sort of way, the idea of catching a venereal disease on his birthday and spending the next week rubbing down with antibiotic cream kind of takes the adventure a bit far.

Pogue waits in the car while Tyler goes into the office to get the keys to their room. When he comes out, Tyler’s flipping the key on his finger and smiling to himself.

“What are you looking so smug for?” Pogue asks.

Tyler leans on the passenger door with his arms folded inside the window and looks in at him. “Nothing,” he says. “What’s your mom gonna think if you don’t come home tonight?”

Pogue pushes the door open, forcing Tyler to step back from the car. “That I’m out at Nicky’s with you guys celebrating and getting shit-faced, probably,” Pogue says. “Why?”

“So she won’t be worried,” Tyler says.

“I doubt it. She might be worried if I don’t go home in the morning,” Pogue says.

Tyler throws an arm around his shoulders and steers Pogue toward their room. “That’s okay, I’ll drive you home,” he says.

Pogue turns him as they’re walking and pulls Tyler against him, the hand around his shoulders curling around his neck in an embrace as Pogue quickly kisses him, backing him toward their room. “This all feels a little premeditated,” he murmurs, trailing sucking, nipping kisses up Tyler’s neck to his ear. “You didn’t go and out us to Caleb and Reid back there on purpose, huh? All part of some little scheme to get me alone here at the… Alhambra Motel?”

Tyler tilts his head back, his eyes falling half closed and a smug little smile curving his lips. “I’m not that clever,” he says.

Pogue scoffs. “Yes, you are,” he says.

“I’m not that devious, then,” Tyler says.

Pogue makes a disbelieving sound in his throat and catches a patch of skin beneath his ear against his teeth, lightly sucking.

“I’m not… that manipulative,” Tyler says, catching his breath.

Pogue concedes this is true. “I suppose not,” he says.

“I was really just… worried about you,” Tyler says. Pogue’s hands slide under his shirt and up his back and Tyler’s fingers tighten in the back of his hair. “I mean… you _broke_. I was scared. You looked sick. I didn’t--”

“Shh, I know,” Pogue says. He lifts his head and looks around. “Which one of these rooms is ours?”

Tyler laughs breathlessly and waves his hand to the right. “That one. Number twelve.”

“You mean one hundred and twelve?” Pogue says, already moving them toward that door.

“Yeah, that,” Tyler says.

Pogue takes the key from Tyler and unlocks the door. They stumble their way into the room and fumble their way to the bed. Pogue feels along the wall beside the door for a light switch, doesn’t find one, and is dragged over to the bed by Tyler pulling on his belt. He tries to catch himself, but ends up falling on Tyler anyway, who only laughs at him. It’s dark as the inside of a cave in the little room, the only light leaking in through the crack in the curtains and the door from the florescent lights along the walkway. They can make each other out in the dark but just barely and it’s blind luck when Tyler falls back on the bed and tugs Pogue down with him that they don’t both go crashing to the floor.

“We left the door open,” Pogue mutters, kissing Tyler back even as he tries to push himself up. “Why the fuck are there no light switches?”

Tyler sits up and looks around. “Ah… I don’t know,” he says.

He feels around on the wall beside the bed in search of a lamp, finds the one mounted to the wall and runs his fingers over it until he finds the little knob to turn it on. It clicks and mellow, dingy light falls over the bed and illuminates the white, spackled walls. There is a Thomas Kinkade print of a cottage in the snowy woods mounted on the wall over the bed and they both frown at it.

“Maybe we should turn the light back off,” Tyler suggests.

Pogue gets up to close the door and finds that the chain lock is broken. As security goes, they’re pretty much useless anyway, but that is really not the point.

Pogue takes his shirt off and walks back toward the bed, removing his wallet, change and the keys to his bike from his pockets. He drops them on the nightstand beside the flesh colored rotary phone and bumps his knees lightly against the edge of the mattress between Tyler’s legs. “Leave it on,” he says. He pulls the tongue of his belt free of the buckle with one hand and reaches down with the other to flip open the button on the fly of Tyler’s jeans. “It’s not so bad.”

“ _This_ isn’t,” Tyler agrees. He brushes Pogue’s hand away and unfastens his jeans himself. He lays back on the bed to lift his hips and push his pants down, catching sight of the Kinkade on the wall again. “But that painting sucks.”

Pogue grins at him and crawls up on the bed, then gets to his knees on the mattress and grabs the picture. It’s bolted to the wall like anyone would ever want to steal it, so Pogue reaches over for a dime on the nightstand and uses it as a screwdriver to carefully unscrew it from the wall. Once he gets the screws out, he pulls the picture down from the wall and gets off the bed with it to go lean it in the corner by the bathroom, picture side down. Pleased with himself, Pogue turns back to Tyler who has been watching him from the bed, tosses the dime back toward the nightstand, and crosses his arms.

“Is that better?” he asks.

Tyler is smiling and he nods. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?” Pogue says. “You don’t want me to get rid of the curtains? Maybe the ugly and really scratchy bedcovers?

“I’m sure,” Tyler says. He puts out his hand. “Come here.”

Pogue goes back to the bed and instead of taking Tyler’s offered hand, he bears him back onto the bed as he crawls over him. He slides his hands under Tyler’s shirt and pushes it up. “You are such a girl sometimes,” he mutters.

Tyler just laughs and helps him with his shirt. “No I’m not,” he says.

Tyler’s head pops out the bottom of his shirt and Pogue yanks it off his arms and throws it. He‘s kneeling on the bed astride Tyler‘s hips and he sits back to look at him, one hand flat on the mattress by Tyler‘s shoulder as he looks down at him laying there. “No,” Pogue says, dropping a quick kiss to his mouth, “you’re not.”

Pogue runs his hands down Tyler’s sides, feels his smooth, dry, warm skin whisper over his callused fingers and palms. Under his skin where Pogue can barely feel it in his fingers is Tyler’s calm, steady heartbeat and the slide of his lean muscles over his ribs as he shifts. It’s strange to think that they are here like this and sometimes that strangeness strikes him and Pogue feels again the uncomfortable awareness that he is doing something forbidden. Just like the first time he touched Tyler, it’s filthy in a lot of ways, but intensely erotic and it sends a thrill of possessive, carnal want right through him to settle deep in his belly.

Tyler was tense and afraid that first time, though. Even the second time and for a while after that, he was uncertain. All that is gone now and he stretches beneath Pogue’s weight, watching him from beneath his long eyelashes with patience, confidence, and shameless desire. There’s a knowledge in his eyes when he looks at Pogue now that was never there before. It’s not just because he knows Pogue’s body, where to touch and how. It’s also a self-awareness that comes from knowing exactly where he stands because he’s seen himself through Pogue’s eyes.

Pogue lays down on top of him and kisses him, slow and lingering, taking his time. He licks over Tyler’s tongue, teasing him into responding, and they laugh together as it becomes a tangling game of chasing tongues. The laughter comes more easily now, too. It was always there, but it wasn’t always this easy. Time and familiarity have made it more natural. Pogue likes the laughter and the playfulness he gets with Tyler. It makes being with him, even when it had to be a secret, so much more effortless than it could have been. It could have been hard and painful, but it rarely ever was, which is why it works.

While they’re kissing, Tyler draws his legs up and pushes them down Pogue’s sides to kick his jeans down. He breaks the kiss and wraps his arms around Pogue’s shoulders, gasping for breath. “Pogue?”

“Hmm?” Pogue’s licking the pulse at the base of his throat and he squirms a little as Tyler keeps trying to push his jeans off with his toes.

“Take your pants off,” Tyler hisses. He nips Pogue’s ear lightly to get his attention.

Pogue merely braces his weight on his elbows to lift his hips, then reaches around with one hand and shoves his pants down. “There.”

Tyler tilts his head to look around him at Pogue‘s jeans pushed down around his ankles, his boots still on his feet and tied. “That is so completely white trash,” Tyler says.

Pogue smiles and presses a kiss into his shoulder, then gets up from the bed. “You know, this is _my_ birthday. You know what that means?” he says, taking his boots off so he can remove his pants completely.

Tyler folds his arms behind his head and eyes him with raised brows. “No, what does it mean?”

“It means that it’s my birthday and I should be allowed to fuck you any way I want to fuck you,” Pogue says, climbing back on the bed.

“I don’t think anyone was arguing that,” Tyler says. He gets up on his knees to kneel in front of Pogue and takes his face in his hands. He kisses him lightly and pulls away when Pogue tries to deepen it. “Would you like… for me… to do something… for you?” he asks between kisses.

Pogue doesn’t say anything, but he makes a soft sound of agreement in his throat as Tyler moves his mouth down his neck, over his shoulders, then scoots back on the bed so he can drop down and trail them lower. Tyler stretches out on the bed and licks down Pogue’s chest to his belly. He gently urges Pogue to lay down and Pogue relaxes back on the bed, allowing Tyler to coax him into the middle of the mattress on his back. Pogue watches him as Tyler flicks his tongue over his bellybutton, nips below his navel so that Pogue twitches and tenses in anticipation.

Tyler’s lips curl in a wicked, teasing smile and he turns his head to kiss the soft flesh of Pogue’s inner thigh, holding his gaze as his pink tongue darts out to lick him. Pogue threads his fingers through Tyler’s hair, petting and gentle, watching him. Tyler strokes his hands up Pogue’s sides, fingers brushing the fine hairs of his thighs, his warm breath on his aroused cock so that Pogue shivers. The anticipation of touch is nearly excruciating and Pogue’s fingers tense against Tyler’s scalp as he resists the urge to pull him closer. Just when Pogue thinks he can’t stand anymore of his teasing and if Tyler doesn’t do something, he’ll moan or beg or in some other way just embarrass himself, Tyler licks his cock. It’s a quick swipe of his tongue over the head that gives no relief at all.

“Ty,” Pogue says insistently. “ _Tyler_.”

Tyler looks up at him inquiringly as he licks him again. “Mhmm?”

Pogue lets out a slow breath and pets his hand down to Tyler’s face, traces his thumb over his full bottom lip which is slick with saliva and his own precome, and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Watching him, Tyler closes a hand around his cock and squeezes. The muscles of Pogue’s thighs and stomach tense in reaction to the throb of pleasure that follows and he drops his hand from Tyler’s face to the bed to grab the side of the mattress. His eyes start to fall closed, but he forces them open so he can look, so he can _see_ Tyler watching him with his bright, pretty eyes, smiling his knowing little smile, licking him and teasing him with his clever little pink tongue.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Tyler asks. He slides his tongue into the space between his closed hand and the sensitive head of Pogue’s cock and licks in slow, pressing strokes. He squeezes again and lifts his head when Pogue’s hips jerk. “I can stop.”

Pogue laughs breathlessly and shakes his head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Hmm, well alright then.” Tyler drops his head and sucks Pogue’s cock into his mouth. Only a little, only to where his lips press against his fisted hand. He sucks and squeezes with his hand at the same time and Pogue moans and moves into it, involuntarily flexing his hips to push into the sensation.

Pogue drops his head back and closes his eyes for a minute, just feeling what Tyler’s doing. He remembers Tyler that first time trying to talk him into taking his virginity. He’d been all wide eyes and nervous twitches. He hadn’t even known what he was asking for. “I’ve created a fucking monster,” Pogue says, panting around the words. He makes an amused sound in his throat and reaches out to touch him, his hands sliding through Tyler’s hair in an affectionate, petting way. “Look at what a tease you are.”

Tyler laughs. The sound of Tyler’s laughter vibrates in his dick and Pogue gasps. He opens his eyes and looks down his body at Tyler, who is watching him still. Tyler takes his hand away, releasing him to press his fingers up Pogue’s stomach. He can feel the minute trembles and twitches of tensing muscle under his hands and makes a pleased sound in his throat as he lowers his head and takes Pogue’s cock into his mouth as far as he can. The head bumps the back of his throat and Tyler eases back a little so he won’t gag. He sucks and Pogue cries out, his fingers flexing in Tyler’s hair as pleasure snaps through him like a whip.

Carefully, Pogue lets Tyler’s head go and runs his hands down his shoulders as he watches him. He jerks and his hips buck instinctively toward him, but Pogue controls himself enough to keep from actually thrusting. He fixes his eyes on Tyler, watching him as he draws back again and flicks his tongue over the head of his cock. Then Tyler lowers his head again and he watches his dick slide into Tyler’s mouth, over his soft tongue, and it’s like a punch in the stomach how turned on he is from just that. That alone is the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen in his life.

Pogue pulls against Tyler’s shoulders, trying to get him to stop. It’s not because he wants him to stop, it’s because it’s not _enough_ , not anymore. Tyler doesn’t go right away and he moans a soft protest in his throat that makes Pogue’s skin feel like it’s alive with biting insects. He pulls at him more insistently and Tyler finally stops sucking him to look up. He smiles at Pogue’s grabby urgency and climbs over him, crawling up the bed to straddle him.

“Come here,” Pogue’s whispering as Tyler finally does and Pogue pulls him down to kiss him. It only occurs to him after he’s got his tongue in Tyler’s mouth that Tyler’s been sucking his dick so Pogue should wait. That’s kind of gross. Even as it occurs to him, he realizes he doesn’t care and sucks lightly at Tyler’s tongue as he wraps his arms around him and rolls Tyler under him on the bed.

Somewhere on the floor wherever Tyler’s pants are, his cell phone starts to ring. The ring tone is some kind of rock sounding thing that Pogue doesn’t recognize.

“What is that?” Pogue asks, kissing Tyler as his hands move down his body.

Tyler looks embarrassed. “Adam Lambert.”

Pogue laughs. “No shit?”

“It’s a guilty pleasure thing. Shut up,” Tyler mumbles.

“You’re blushing,” Pogue tells him, delighted by the pink flush that has risen on Tyler’s pale skin. It goes down his neck all the way to his chest and Pogue kisses his skin there to see if it’s warmer. It is.

“I am not,” Tyler says.

Pogue just grins and pets his hands down Tyler’s back to his hips. Tyler draws his knees up as Pogue slips an arm around his lower back to tilt his hips and links his arms around Pogue’s neck. Pogue presses a finger inside him and Tyler sighs, relaxed and calm. He’s aroused, but there is none of the alarmed tension in his body that there was in those first days together. It’s all more familiar now and they know each other’s bodies well enough that it all falls together like a dance rather than a game of tug-o-war. Tyler doesn’t tense up as Pogue adds a second finger to the first and searches for his prostate with gentle, steady strokes. He gasps and moans, but he doesn’t hold his breath and forget to breathe. He buries his face against the side of Pogue’s neck in his long hair and muffles the sound of his cries and whimpers in his skin.

Pleasure jumps under his skin, shooting up his back and coiling in his belly and Tyler cries out. He pulls at Pogue’s shoulders and closes his legs around his waist, trying to drag him closer, to pull him in. Pogue grinds his hips against the back of his hand, fucking him with his fingers until pleasure overwhelms Tyler and he cries out over and over, his body shaking. Tyler tries to bite down on the sounds, but Pogue leans up and licks and nips at his mouth. He’s not quite kissing him, but it makes it impossible for Tyler to keep quiet.

“We’re alone now,” Pogue murmurs. He takes Tyler’s bottom lip in his teeth and gently tugs, letting it slide through his teeth as Tyler bucks against him. “Don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

“We’re not,” Tyler gasps. “We’re _not_ alone.”

As if on cue, someone in the room beside theirs bangs on the wall by the head of the bed.

“Fuck ‘em,” Pogue says. He twists his fingers in Tyler’s ass, pressing against his prostate. Tyler arches off the bed beneath him with a shout. Pogue licks and lightly sucks at the soft skin below his jaw. “Close enough.”

“ _Pogue_ ,” Tyler hisses. He bites Pogue’s earlobe lightly and presses his heels into his lower back, digging them in. “Come on. Come _on_.”

Tyler’s heart is thundering under his tongue as Pogue licks him. He’s left a hickey on the side of his neck below the curve of his jaw and he runs his tongue over it, tasting the copper of Tyler’s blood on the back of his teeth. Tyler writhes and pulls at him, his fingers digging sharp little crescents into Pogue’s sweaty skin as he rocks in time to his thrusting fingers. Pogue presses his fingers up, dragging them over Tyler’s prostate as he withdraws them from his body. Tyler cries out and throws his head back on the pillows. He grabs for something and catches the top of the bed frame with his fingertips as Pogue finally pushes his cock inside him and thrusts. Tyler’s hand squeaks against the fake wood headboard and Pogue reaches over his head to catch his hand before he drops it to the covers, holding it there. Tyler’s fingers clench in Pogue’s and his chest rises and falls with his rapid, panting breath. Pogue finds Tyler’s other hand on the bed and pulls it over his head, holding both hands down on the mattress above his shoulders as he starts to move.

“Tyler,” Pogue says. He nudges his cheek to get his attention and Tyler turns his head to kiss him. “Tyler, put your legs around my waist.”

Tyler nods and wraps his legs around Pogue’s hips. He tightens them when Pogue shifts and starts to move faster, harder. The bed frame is not attached to the headboard, which is fastened to the wall separately, but the bed shakes and the frame still clatters against the wall as they start to move. The springs squeak and Tyler and Pogue both laugh at the sound of it. Their laughter only increases when their irritated neighbors once again bang on the wall and shout at them to shut up.

Pogue releases Tyler’s hands to pull him down the bed away from the wall. His thrusts are hard, jarring and Tyler’s moans and whimpers break into soft cries as he lets his mouth fall open to gasp for breath. Pogue makes soft, encouraging sounds in his throat and kisses his face, his neck, along his shoulders as he throws his weight behind his thrusts, snapping his hips against Tyler’s ass on the in-stroke. Tyler’s shouts and cries send sharp little bolts of possessive desire and pleasure through Pogue like punches and he moans. He licks Tyler’s mouth until he opens for him, then licks until Tyler is straining toward him before he kisses him.

Tyler cries out into the kiss, then turns his head to break it and screams, shuddering all over with pleasure. Pogue’s breath stutters in his throat, his belly clenching with pleasure as he looks down at Tyler beneath him and every sharp, breathy little moan goes straight to his dick and has his pulse racing. He licks his lips and tastes the salt of their mingled sweat in his mouth, then drops his head and flicks his tongue over Tyler’s mouth, coaxing him to meet him. Their tongues slide together and meet in Tyler’s mouth as Pogue deepens it and hunches his shoulders to continue kissing him as he fucks him.

Tyler grabs for him and his fingers skid over Pogue’s skin in the sweat on his body before he gets a sturdy grip on the backs of his shoulders. He tries to break away from the kiss as his orgasm builds and builds inside him, but Pogue growls at him and lightly sucks his tongue, holding him so that he can’t. He cries out when he comes, the sound lost between their kissing mouths, and digs his fingers into Pogue’s shoulders, shuddering and feeling like he’s going to fall apart as he body tenses and burns.

When Pogue finally lets him break the kiss, the sound Tyler makes is part deep pleasure and part frustration. Pogue rests his forehead on Tyler’s shoulder as he works his hips, moving within him deep and slow, each thrust pushing strained whining sounds from Tyler as he strokes over his oversensitive prostate.

“Come on,” Tyler whispers. His breath hitches and he moves his hands up the back of Pogue’s neck to wrap his arms around his neck, cradling his head. “Pogue. Pogue, come on.”

Pogue lightly sets his teeth against the curve of Tyler’s shoulder, moaning into his skin. As Tyler whispers to him, Pogue closes his eyes and tightens his arms around him. His senses are overcome with the smell of him, the feel of him, the taste of his skin and the soft, catching whisper of his voice. Tyler presses his lips to Pogue’s throat and his soft, warm breath washes over his shoulder and into his sweaty hair. Pogue tenses and makes low sounds of pleasure in his throat as his orgasm moves through his stomach and up his spine. Pleasure slides under his skin and along his nerves and Tyler rocks with him on the bed. He whimpers as Pogue fucks him through his orgasm and his come makes the slide of his cock in Tyler’s body easy and smooth.

They slow and then stop moving as all the strength just drains out of Pogue and he rolls off of Tyler to lay beside him. Tyler drags his hands though his hair and lays there staring up at the dingy ceiling, both of them panting as their racing heartbeats slow.

The people in the room beside theirs pound on the wall again. Tyler turns his head and Pogue slants his eyes over to meet his. Then they both laugh.

~~*~~

Pogue’s laying on his stomach in the middle of the bed with his head propped up on one arm as he flips through the limited late night TV stations without much interest. Beside him, Tyler lays on his own stomach with a pillow balled up under his chin, his eyes closed and his breathing even. He hasn’t moved in a little over an hour and Pogue thinks he’s asleep until his cell phone rings from its place on the floor again and Tyler reaches down to fumble in the pocket of his jeans for it.

Pogue stops channel surfing to stare in morbid fascination at some show where minor celebrities sit around a table sipping wine while they talk about how “sincere” and “flirtatious” it is.

Tyler answers his phone and puts it to his ear with a mumbled “Hello.” He listens for a minute, grunts disinterestedly and reaches over blindly to hand the phone to Pogue. “It’s Caleb.”

Pogue sighs and takes the phone from him. His initial desire is to hang up on him and deal with Caleb later, but he doesn’t. He stops poking the channel button on the TV remote and puts the phone to his ear. “What’s up, Caleb?”

“Why do you have Tyler’s phone?” Caleb demands.

“I don’t have Tyler’s phone, he just handed it to me,” Pogue says. He’s pretty sure the guy making a show of sniffing his merlot on the TV is Stanley Tucci. “I’ve got a better question for you; why are you calling Tyler in the middle of the night?”

Caleb mutters something that Pogue can’t quite make out.

“Excuse me?” Pogue says.

“I said because you won’t answer your phone,” Caleb says.

“Oh. Well, I left it in the car,” Pogue says. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what the hell’s going on,” Caleb says. “What was that crap tonight? And why is Tyler handing you his phone? Where are you guys?”

“Are we really going to do this right now?” Pogue says. He’d be amused if Caleb wasn’t his best friend, closer than a brother to him, and being a complete ass. “You’re really going to call me up on Tyler’s phone and then play stupid right now?”

“For how long?” Caleb asks.

Pogue doesn’t have to ask him what he means. “Since right before last summer,” Pogue says.

“Jesus,” Caleb says. “Jesus Christ. And I didn’t know. How the hell did I _not_ know?”

“You were sort of preoccupied with Sarah,” Pogue says. “Besides, we pretty much decided you didn’t need to know.”

“ _We_?” Caleb says incredulously. “ _We_ decided?”

“Well, yeah,” Pogue says. “ _We_.”

“This is _Tyler_ we’re talking about here. Jesus Christ,” Caleb says. “ _Tyler_.”

Pogue can kind of tell that this is the same pointless argument that Caleb’s been having with himself ever since he walked away from them all in the field and drove off. “I know,” Pogue says dryly. “Imagine _my_ surprise.”

Beside him, Tyler snickers.

“Okay, okay, but even if this weren’t Tyler, you’re not gay,” Caleb says. “I mean, Pogue, you’re _not_ gay.”

Probably not, but Pogue’s not going to even begin to try explaining how he sort of likes both, but right now he sort of pretty much exclusively likes Tyler. He hadn‘t really expected Caleb to take the news as well as Reid had, but the way he’s acting is starting piss him off. “I don’t know, Caleb,” he says. “Do you think fucking boys makes me gay?”

Tyler rolls onto his back and shouts with laughter. Pogue can barely hear Caleb mutter, “We’ll talk about this later,” right before he hangs up on him and a haughty recorded female voice tells Pogue that he has to try his call again.

Pogue hangs up the phone and reaches over Tyler to drop it on their pile of clothes on the floor. Tyler hooks an arm around his neck as Pogue starts to roll away again and kisses him, amusement still humming softly in his throat.

“Our fearless leader does not approve, it would seem,” Pogue tells him when he breaks the kiss.

Tyler makes a _meh_ sound of dismissal and gently pushes Pogue’s shoulder so he can sit up. “I’m hungry. Let’s go raid that truck stop across the street for junk food,” he says.

Pogue follows him off the bed and catches him around the waist, hauling Tyler toward the bathroom. “Let’s shower first,” he says. “We didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

~~*~~

There’s a little 24 hour diner in the truck stop, but Tyler has a craving for raspberry Zingers so they go to the convenience store to buy those before they go into the back of the building to the diner. Tyler orders a chicken salad sandwich and Pogue orders fish and chips. While they wait for their food, Tyler unwraps his packet of Zingers and shares them with Pogue.

“Are you okay?” Tyler asks him after a few minutes of silence.

Pogue swipes a finger over Tyler’s lip and takes it back with a sliver of coconut under his fingernail. “I’m fine,” he says. “Why?”

“Just, you know… Caleb,” Tyler says. He runs his tongue out over his lip after Pogue’s finger.

“Yeah,” Pogue says. He pops the last of his Zinger in his mouth and chews. “We pretty much knew he wasn’t going to take it well, though.”

“So?” Tyler says. “He’s Caleb. He doesn’t have to be an asshole, either.”

“It’ll be alright, Tyler,” Pogue says. “It’s Caleb.”

Tyler makes a rude sound in his throat and takes a drink of his soda. “It’s none of his business.”

“Tyler,” Pogue says. “Come on. You know that’s not true.”

Tyler scowls down at the wood tabletop and taps his fingers without agreeing or disagreeing. He knows it’s true, so there isn’t much he can argue about. They aren’t just a group of friends, they aren’t just some kids that hang out together at Nicky’s sometimes. There is the covenant of silence, but even without that binding them together, their families have always been close and Caleb, Reid, and Pogue are Tyler’s brothers. Eventually Caleb had to know just like Reid had to know and, just like Reid, everything depends on Caleb’s acceptance.

“I’m afraid,” Tyler whispers.

Pogue looks at him sharply. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m serious,” Tyler says. “What if he’s never okay with it? You know Caleb can be a jerk.”

“He’ll be okay,” Pogue says.

Impatiently, Tyler sits forward. “But what if he’s _not_.”

“Hey,” Pogue says. “Then he’s not, okay? And then it’s his problem.”

Tyler stares at him silently, then sits back with a sigh. “God, I want to believe you right now.”

Pogue just nods and doesn’t say anything else about it. He won’t fight with him about it and he’s not going to try to convince him that he’s sincere. That’s not his way and if it ever comes down to it, then Tyler will know.

Their food comes shortly after that and they eat in comfortable silence for most of the meal. Tyler steals some of Pogue’s fries and Pogue accepts a bite of his chicken salad in trade. When the waitress brings them the check, Pogue snatches it off the table before Tyler can get it and wags it at him with a smirk.

“Let’s split it,” Tyler says.

Pogue shakes his head and eats a few of his last fries. “You get the next one.”

“Fine,” Tyler says. “Nicky’s tomorrow night.”

“Fine,” Pogue says. “It’ll be like a date.”

Tyler thinks about that and smiles. “You know, we’ve never technically done that before.”

“I know,” Pogue says. “But now everyone knows. There’s got to be some kind of freedom in that, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tyler says, getting up from the table. “Let’s get out of here.”

Pogue pays the bill and they go back across the street to their motel room. They have sex again before they fall asleep. After, Pogue lays there against Tyler’s back lazily trailing the fingers of one hand over his hip, along the slight curve of his waist as he lightly licks and nips the mark of a love bite into the back of his shoulder. Tyler lays there lax and content, not sleeping but drifting exhaustedly toward sleep. There aren’t any _I love you_ ‘s spoken between them. Pogue has actually never said the words to Tyler at all, but Tyler doesn’t worry about it. It’s not important because there is everything else and everything else is everything.

~~*~~

Early in the morning, Tyler drives Pogue home. The sun is coming up, the sky is lightening, but it’s still early enough that when they go into the house, they sneak in and do their best not to wake Pogue’s mother. They silently make their way down the hall, but they stop when they reach the kitchen and find Pogue’s mother awake and sitting at the dining room table.

She is wearing a rose pink robe and sipping from a coffee cup. When she sees them, she waves them into the dining room. “Good morning, boys,” she says. “How was your night?” She tilts her head to allow Pogue to kiss her cheek and pats him. “Did you have a happy birthday, my darling?”

“It was alright,” Pogue says. He pulls out a chair to sit and Tyler sits down across from him on her other side. “It hurt like hell.”

“Mmm, yes. Your father mentioned that to me once, I believe,” she says. “How are you this morning, Tyler dear?”

Tyler smiles at her nervously. “I’m good, Mrs. Parry,” he says. He feels like they’ve been caught out and wishes he could manage to be half as cool about it as Pogue is.

Mrs. Parry smiles at him and sips her coffee. “You two boys weren’t going to sneak into the bedroom and pretend like you were camping out in there all along, were you?”

Pogue grins and gets up from the table to get coffee for himself and Tyler.

“Ah… maybe,” Tyler admits.

“Well, I’m sorry I ruined your clever little plan, then,” Mrs. Parry says. “Did you boys go out and celebrate?”

Tyler glances toward where Pogue is standing just inside the kitchen by the counter, desperately hoping for him to choose that moment to chime in and rescue him, but he just spoons cream and sugar into their coffee and says nothing. “We… I guess we did,” he says.

Pogue brings the coffee back to the table and sits back down. “Mom, I need to tell you something,” he says.

His mother raises her eyebrows at him. “Oh? That sounds serious.”

Tyler licks his lips and stares down at his coffee. “Pogue, don’t,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter,” Pogue assures him.

“Like hell,” Tyler mutters.

“Mom,” Pogue says, “I’m kind of… ah, well, I guess I’m seeing Tyler. You know, like…”

“Sexually,” Tyler supplies.

“I was going to say romantically,” Pogue says.

“You were not,” Tyler scoffs.

Mrs. Parry looks between them with wide eyes. “Boys,” she says carefully. “Boys, this really is not necessary.”

“Oh, God,” Tyler says, putting his face down on the table.

Mrs. Parry reaches over to pat him. “Don’t carry on so, dear,” she says. “I only meant that I already know. You’re quite obvious about it.”

Tyler picks his head up and gapes at her. “What?”

“And you can be rather loud, dear,” Mrs. Parry says. “I am right down the hall after all.”

Tyler looks across the table at Pogue and glares. Pogue merely smiles at him and drinks his coffee.

“So, what brought this on?” Mrs. Parry asks.

“Nothing,” Tyler says.

“Tyler sort of outed us to Caleb and Reid when I ascended,” Pogue says. “I thought we should clear the air.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Parry says. “Well, would you boys like breakfast?”

“Sure,” Tyler says without any enthusiasm. He’s still glaring at Pogue. “You knew.”

“I suspected,” Pogue confesses.

Mrs. Parry gets up from the table to fix them breakfast. “Honey, would you look at my car again later?” she calls back to Pogue from the kitchen. “It’s making that clanking sound again.”

~~*~~

That night, Tyler and Pogue go to Nicky’s separately, intending to meet up. Tyler picks up Reid at Spencer first so he’s a little late. When they get there, Pogue is playing foosball with some guy they don’t know and Reid cuts in after he loses a game.

“You brought Reid?” Pogue asks Tyler.

Tyler shrugs. “He needed a ride.”

“Yeah, but remember this was sort of like a date?” Pogue says.

“A _first_ date,” Tyler says, smirking at him across the table.

“Whatever. You brought Reid on our date,” Pogue says.

Reid grins at him and punches one of the foosball sticks toward him, lightly hitting him in the stomach with it. “Shut up and play ball, Parry,” he says. “Who cares? You wanna place bets?”

“On foosball?” Pogue says, quirking a brow at him.

“Why not?” Reid says.

“You ever think maybe you’ve got a problem?” Pogue asks. He takes a five dollar bill out of his pocket and slaps it down on the edge of the table.

Reid matches the five with one of his own and shakes his head. “It’s not a problem at all,” he says. “Prepare to lose your lunch money.”

Tyler leaves them to go get drinks at the bar. He has to shout over the heads of all the people around the bar to be heard and orders ice tea for Pogue and a Coke for himself.

“You guys want food?” Nicky asks him as he’s handing the drinks to Tyler over the heads of a young couple.

“Maybe later,” Tyler calls back. “Thanks, Nicky.”

He’s watching Pogue and Reid at the foosball table as he takes the drinks and starts to turn. Caleb’s standing right behind him and Tyler smacks into his chest when he turns, splashing sweet tea and cola all over them both.

“Goddamn it,” Tyler says, holding his arms out to look down at himself in disgust. “Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb has a look of revulsion on his face and glares at Tyler when he speaks. “Any time,” he says dryly.

Sarah’s standing behind Caleb’s shoulder and she gives Tyler a tentative smile. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Tyler says to her. He squeezes by them.

Caleb lays a restraining hand on Tyler’s shoulder and ducks his head to speak low in his ear. “We need to talk.”

Tyler lets out a deep breath, getting up his nerve, then meets Caleb’s eyes defiantly. “Let me go.”

“Tyler,” Caleb says, that warning, scolding tone he gets sometimes creeping into his voice.

“Let go,” Tyler says. He jerks his shoulder away from Caleb’s hand and goes around them and the bar, back to where the foosball tables are.

Pogue has just lost his five dollars to Reid and is manfully enduring one of Reid’s enthusiastic hugs with his head locked under Reid’s arm. He shoves Reid off when Tyler reaches them and takes his ice tea from him. The glass is only a little over half full and though Pogue sips it, he’s noticed.

He reaches out and plucks at the wet front of Tyler’s shirt. “When did you get so clumsy?”

“Caleb made me spill it,” Tyler says.

Pogue’s eyebrows shoot up and he glances toward the bar, looking for him. “Oh yeah?”

“It was an accident,” Tyler says.

“Forget it. You won’t melt,” Reid says. He slings an arm around Tyler’s shoulder. “You wanna play? I’ll take it easy on you.”

“Like you took it easy on Pogue?” Tyler says, laughing. “Did you cheat?”

Reid touches a hand to his own chest and pretends to be shocked. “ _Moi_? I never.”

“Right,” Tyler says, but he allows himself to be steered around the table to take Pogue’s place. “I’m not betting anything.”

“Fine, fine, take all the fun out of it,” Reid says. “You’ll still lose.”

“You’ll still cheat,” Tyler counters.

Pogue leans against a wall timber and lights a cigarette, half of his attention on Tyler and Reid, half of it on the bar as he looks for Caleb. He finally sees him at a table with Sarah. He runs a hand up Tyler’s back as he leans in to tell him he’ll be right back and Tyler completely misses his shot and almost loses to Reid right then and there.

“Oh my God, Ty, you’re such a chick,” Reid says when Pogue‘s gone. “Do you faint and shit, too?”

“No,” Tyler says. He can feel himself flushing and even though there’s no way Reid could know the embarrassing particulars of why--that the way Pogue leaned over him was close to the same way he had done it months before over a pool table in this very same bar--it makes him flush even more. “I don’t faint. Shut up and play.”

“Maybe not, but you’re totally blushing just like a girl right now,” Reid says, gloating as he shoots the ball and Tyler barely catches it in time.

Pogue’s smiling to himself as he crosses the bar, slipping between people to get to Caleb and Sarah’s table. There isn’t an ashtray on their table, so he picks up an abandoned shot glass from another table before he reaches it. He pulls out a chair without being invited to and sits down, elbows on the table.

Caleb looks at him and Pogue looks back and they don’t say anything for long enough that it makes Sarah uncomfortable. She waves a hand in front of her face.

“Pogue?” Sarah says. “Ah… I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke in here. It’s illegal.”

Pogue doesn’t look at her but he puts the cigarette out in the shot glass. “Everything’s fucking illegal,” he mutters.

“Not everything,” Caleb says. “Some things are just immoral.”

Pogue gives him a taunting smile. “Nice,” he says, admiring Caleb’s artless change of topic. “But _is_ it immoral?”

“It’s fucked up and sick,” Caleb says.

Sarah, who isn’t completely sure what’s going on, looks between them. “Ah… You guys?”

“Caleb, why don’t you tell Sarah why you’re so pissed,” Pogue suggests. “See what _she_ thinks.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything, but his jaw clenches and a muscle in his cheek twitches.

“See, Caleb just recently found out about me and Tyler and it’s put him in a funk,” Pogue tells Sarah, still watching Caleb. Caleb’s glaring a warning at him and Pogue’s known him long and well enough to know it’d be stupid to take his attention off of him. “Now he’s all confused about what to do and really it’s none of his business.”

Sarah considers them both thoughtfully and finally says, “You and Tyler what?”

“Me and Tyler, Sarah. Come on, you’re a smart girl,” Pogue says. His lips quirk in a faint, genuinely amused smile. “I’m fucking Tyler. Have been for awhile.”

Caleb pushes himself up from the table and Pogue instantly rises to meet him. They stand there like that, facing off at opposite sides of the table, and Sarah just stares up at them both in shock.

“It’s easier for you to be pissed off with him than it is to just be okay with it, isn’t it?” Pogue asks Caleb.

“I’m not pissed off with him,” Caleb says.

“Sure you are,” Pogue says. “You’d never pull that intimidation shit with me.”

“Is that right?” Caleb snaps.

He shoves the table against Pogue. Pogue catches it, then reaches out quickly and lightly smacks Caleb’s cheek. He knows what he’s doing, that he’s antagonizing Caleb to an unbearable degree, but that’s the point; to make him snap. If Caleb took a moment to think about it, if he were thinking straight, he’d know that. If he _weren’t_ pissed off, then what Pogue’s doing wouldn’t get a rise out of him at all, but he is pissed so that light little smack to his face makes everything explode.

Sarah screams and ducks out of the way as Caleb flips the table at Pogue. Pogue, already anticipating something, puts his foot out and kicks the table, catching it with one hand as he throws it aside. Caleb rushes him, Pogue catches him and turns them, Caleb’s own momentum carrying him into the wall. Caleb pushes back and Pogue almost ends up on his back on another table. Plates and glasses crash, people jump up to get out of the way and somewhere in the back of the bar, Nicky is shouting that if they don’t take that shit outside, he’s going to call the fucking cops. Pogue knows that pretty soon, Nicky’s going to get his hands on his Louisville Slugger and come after them himself, so he steers Caleb toward the back door. Caleb gets in a solid blow to his ribs and Pogue throws himself against him, using his body to crowd Caleb into the back door. He takes a few more hits while he fumbles for the knob and tries like hell to keep his face away from Caleb’s fists.

It doesn’t look like it from the outside, but Pogue’s doing what he’s always done; controlling the situation. Caleb needed to get it out and take that confusion and anger out on somebody and Pogue wasn’t going to allow him to take it out on Tyler. He could wait around for Caleb to finally explode at some unknown, random point in the future, or he could push it and make Caleb blow up somewhere that Pogue could take care of it. Like now. Still, Pogue isn’t going to let Caleb just beat the shit out of him so he’ll feel better, either.

They fall through the backdoor, stumble down the stairs into the alley and Pogue licks blood from his split bottom lip right before he hits Caleb in the face. Caleb curses, hits Pogue in the stomach, and they follow each other to the ground swinging and cursing and growling. Any second, Pogue expects to feel the soft warning brush of Caleb’s rising power along his skin, and if that happens then everything will be over and Pogue will probably end up in the hospital with more than just some bruises. Caleb never uses it though, just swings another blow at Pogue’s face that glances off his shoulder when Pogue twists away and they roll across the ground.

Reid and Tyler fight their way through the people that have gathered around them, blocking the door and spilling down the short flight of stairs into the alley to watch the fight and egg them on. Sarah is caught somewhere in the back and can’t get through, but she starts shouting Caleb’s name and yelling at the people who block her path. Somewhere inside the bar, Nicky is also shouting, telling them that he’s calling the cops and they better move it somewhere else.

Reid reaches them and, in typical Reid fashion, he jumps right into the middle of the fray without thinking and pulls Caleb off of Pogue. Pogue staggers to his feet and gestures with one hand for Tyler to stay back when he starts to come forward and help him. Caleb manages to get away from Reid and Pogue just has time to catch him when Caleb charges him and they fall into a wall of beer crates full of empties. They’re both exhausted and hurt by this point, so Caleb’s charge is pretty much a final act of rage and they lay there in the dirt, panting and taking stock of their injuries.

“You gave me a black eye,” Caleb tells Pogue.

Pogue wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and glances over at him. “It’s not black yet,” he says.

“Fuck you,” Caleb says. He feels his tender face with prodding fingers and winces.

“You deserved it,” Pogue says. “You’re being a dick.”

Caleb huffs out a heavy breath, but he doesn’t argue the point.

“You feel better?” Pogue says. He’s a pretty firm believer in the power of a good throw-down fight to put shit in perspective.

“Not really,” Caleb says. “This is really happening?”

Pogue sighs. “This is really happening.”

“Shit,” Caleb says. He rolls over and gets to his feet, then holds a hand down to help Pogue up.

Pogue takes his hand and once he’s on his feet again, Tyler is right there grabbing him and shoving at Caleb. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?!” he yells at Caleb.

Caleb is more shocked by Tyler’s uncommon fearlessness when he gets in his face than by what he’s said. So shocked that he apologizes. “I’m sorry, Tyler.”

The look Tyler gives him is completely murderous. “Yeah, you are,” he says.

Pogue pulls Tyler back. “I’m alright. Knock it off,” he says.

Tyler glares at him, but he allows himself to be pulled away. “You are _not_ alright. Look at your mouth. It’s all bloody.”

“Yeah, well I started it,” Pogue says.

“So?” Tyler says. “He’s been acting like a--”

Reid interrupts them all and they never find out what Tyler thinks Caleb’s been acting like because he’s got Sarah with him and all the onlookers are starting to scatter. “Nicky really did call the cops this time,” Reid says. “Sorry to break up this little three-way here, but we’ve got to go, boys.”

Nicky comes out onto the back steps and brandishes his bat at them, yelling and red-faced. There aren’t any sirens approaching yet, but none of them feel like spending the night in holding or calling their mother’s to bail them out of jail, so they follow everyone else who is fleeing down the alley and run. They split up when they reach the parking lot and Caleb and Sarah are the first to get into his car and leave. Pogue goes with Tyler and Reid to Tyler’s car.

“I’ll see you at my place later?” Pogue says.

Tyler leans out the drivers side window and kisses him. He stops when he tastes blood from Pogue’s cut lip in his mouth and Pogue leans back, smiling as he licks at it.

“I have to drop Reid off,” Tyler says.

Pogue smiles and shifts his gaze to Reid, who sticks his tongue out at him making a disgusted face. He winks at Tyler. “I’ll see you then, baby.”

“Oh man, _seriously_?” Reid says.

“Shut up, Reid,” Pogue says, leaving them to go to his bike. He watches Tyler pull out of the parking lot before he pulls out behind them, cuts him off in traffic and drives away to the sound of Reid tapping the horn at him.

~~*~~

The next day, Tyler drives them both to school and all day long they go around in a kind of surreal daze. Everything has changed, but only Pogue, Tyler, Reid and Caleb are aware of it. It feels like everyone knows, though. It feels like it did when they first got together; like a million scornful eyes are following them wherever they go. It’s not true, Caleb isn’t happy about it but he wouldn’t ever speak a word of it to anyone. Some others suspect after the fight at Nicky’s and the way Tyler and Pogue are with each other now. It’s out and those who matter already know and they have lost the patience for pretending. Suspicion is not knowledge though and, because Tyler still has another year of school at Spencer after Pogue leaves, they’d like to keep it that way.

Let them suspect. Let them wonder.

Their last class of the day is history and it’s one Pogue and Tyler have together. They’re studying World War II and postwar Europe, which is dull enough that Pogue is slumped down in his chair only half listening and beside him, Tyler has fallen asleep over his desk. Reid is in the chair directly behind Tyler and when the instructor turns his back, he reaches over and pokes Tyler’s ear with a straw.

Tyler swats at his ear and Pogue snatches the straw away from Reid. “Knock it off,” he says. “What are you, five?”

“At heart, Pogue,” Reid says, sitting back. “Only at heart.”

“Mr. Garwin,” the instructor says, turning toward them.

Reid sits up straight in his chair. “Yes, sir?”

“The Court of Justice of the European Communities was created when?” the instructor asks him pleasantly.

Reid taps his bottom lip with his index finger thoughtfully. “Hmm. Nineteen ninety-six?” he guesses.

“No,” the instructor says flatly. “Which city is it based in, Mr. Garwin?”

“Ah… Paris?” Reid says.

“No, Mr. Garwin,” the instructor says. “Please pay attention. _Mr. Simms_ , are you with us, sir?”

Without picking up his head, Tyler raises one arm and gives him a thumbs-up. Pogue gently jostles him to sit up, but Tyler ignores him.

“Can _you_ tell me the year the Court of Justice of the European Communities was created?”

The instructor has that same knowing smirk on his face as he asks this and everyone turns to look toward Tyler, expecting him to entertain them with his ignorance.

Tyler takes a deep, sleepy breath and says, “Nineteen fifty-one.”

The instructor narrows his eyes on Tyler, irritated. “And the city?” he demands.

Tyler sniffs and lifts his head to rest his chin on his desk, looking back at the instructor with bleary eyes. “Luxembourg.”

“Correct, Mr. Simms,” the instructor says with grudging admiration. “If you could do me the courtesy of _pretending_ to pay attention for the rest of the class, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“Sure,” Tyler says.

Reid smacks Tyler companionably on the back of the shoulder and Tyler hisses out a pained breath. “Man, that was _awesome_ ,” Reid says.

Tyler rubs his shoulder and makes a dismissive sound. “I read the book. Try it some time.”

Reid notices Tyler rubbing his shoulder and then the dark blood blister spot on the side of his neck below his jaw and he laughs before he can stop himself.

“Mr. Garwin!” the instructor says. “Please.”

“Sorry!” Reid says. “Sorry!”

Everyone laughs and Reid plays it off like he’s fooling around until they all lose interest. He nudges Tyler. Tyler glares at him over his shoulder.

“Is that a _hickey_?” Reid says.

“Reid, quit it,” Pogue says. He twists around in his seat to glare at him until Reid settles back in his chair. “Yeah, it’s a fucking hickey. Now stop.”

“You didn’t have that hickey last night at Nicky’s,” Reid persists.

“I’m going to punch you in the face if you don’t shut up,” Tyler warns.

Reid rolls his eyes and falls into a mutinous silence. “I wish you guys would quit telling me to shut up. It’s _rude_.”

Class gets out a few minutes later and Reid follows Pogue and Tyler out into the hall, his arms around their necks as they all walk toward the exit. “So, you two lovebirds gonna be at that party tonight?”

“Maybe,” Pogue says. “Ty, you wanna go to that party tonight?”

“Is that the bonfire in the woods or the kegger out at that Martin girl’s house?” Tyler asks. There was usually a choice of parties to go to on Friday nights.

“The bonfire, definitely,” Reid says.

“Sure, I’ll bring marshmallows,” Tyler says.

“And beer,” Reid says.

“I’ll bring that,” Pogue says.

“Caleb’s gonna be there,” Reid says.

“Good,” Tyler says. “He can bring the chocolate and graham crackers.”

~~*~~

Pogue’s mother is out with some friends for the evening when he and Tyler get back to his house. She’s left them a note on the refrigerator telling them that she’ll be back late, to enjoy themselves, and that there’s money on the counter if they want to order something in. The bonfire party isn’t until later and probably won’t get good and interesting until well after dark so Tyler puts in a movie and Pogue opens a beer and gets on the phone to order them a pizza.

“What do you want on it?” Pogue asks, nudging Tyler as he’s trying to adjust the volume on the TV.

“Pepperoni,” Tyler says absently.

“And?” Pogue says.

“And Pepperoni,” Tyler says.

“Fine. Double pepperoni,” he says into the phone. “How long?”

He listens, smiles and hangs up the phone. “What movie are we watching?” he asks Tyler.

“ _The Last Picture Show_ ,” he says. He smiles to himself as he settles back on the sofa and asks, “How long before the food gets here?”

“He said about twenty minutes,” Pogue says.

“Hmm, that long?” Tyler says. He sits up and pulls his shirt off over his head.

Before he even has his shirt off, Pogue’s reading his mind and he puts his hands on Tyler’s waist and pulls him across the sofa cushion and back against him. The cold, wet glass of his beer bottle against Tyler’s skin makes Tyler catch his breath with a soft, surprised sound. Pogue leans in and sucks a soft place on the back of Tyler’s shoulder just above the neck of his beer bottle. The contrasting draw of Pogue’s warm mouth so close to the chill of the glass against Tyler’s skin sends a thrilling shiver down his back.

“Twenty minutes,” Tyler says softly. “That’s hardly enough time for this.”

Pogue makes a low sound of agreement against the back of his shoulder, nips him lightly, then lets him go to pull his own shirt off. “Hurry up and get those pants down, then.”

This was why when Pogue said things like what he meant to say was “romantically,” Tyler never believed him.

Tyler laughs and fumbles with his fly. Nearly the moment he has his jeans unfastened, Pogue grabs him and pulls him into his lap. He hooks his fingers into the waist of Tyler’s jeans and peels them and his underwear down his thighs. Pogue kisses the back of Tyler’s neck and grazes his teeth over the little bump of his spine as he works his own jeans down his hips. He feels in his pocket for a condom and makes a soft _ah-ha_ sound of triumph when he finds one.

“Pogue,” Tyler says, rocking gently back against him. “We’re sort of on the clock.”

Pogue chuffs a soft laugh into his skin and kisses him again on the back of the neck. “Put the mute on,” he mutters against the back of Tyler’s ear. He gets the condom on and slips a lubed finger into Tyler’s ass, working it back and forth until Tyler rocks back against his hand. “Tyler. Come on, I don’t want to do this listening to Hank Williams.”

Tyler gasps around a laugh and reaches on the table for the remote control. He snatches it up as Pogue pushes another finger inside him and hooks them both. The deep shock of pleasure that sparks from the movement of his fingers nearly makes Tyler drop the controller before he manages to hit the mute button. Tyler drops it back on the table and reaches back to grab for Pogue.

Pogue rests his forehead between Tyler’s shoulders briefly, breathing in the warm scent of his familiar, clean skin. He rubs his fingertips over Tyler’s prostate, making him shudder and dig his fingers into the muscle of Pogue’s thighs, whimpering. When Pogue takes Tyler’s hips in his hands and pulls him down in his lap as he flexes his hips to push his cock inside him, Tyler’s whole body tenses against him and around him. Tyler arches his back into that first thrust and takes him deep, inner muscles clenching tightly around Pogue’s cock so that he cries out and holds on tightly to him.

They stay like that for a for a while, Pogue holding Tyler down in his lap, his cock deep inside him as he flexes his hips against his ass in short thrusts. He barely withdraws from him at all and every sharp thrust makes Tyler’s breath hitch, his body aching from the way Pogue’s fucking him so that there is constant stimulation of his prostate. It’s like pleasure is a heavy, swelling thing in his abdomen and Tyler cries out, unable to stand it quietly, until his cries and shouts blend together into a drawn-out wail. Pogue presses kisses along his shoulders and guides Tyler to move with him with his hands on his hips. Once he catches the rhythm of it, Pogue runs his hands up Tyler’s sides, thumbs pressing into the muscle of Tyler’s back as he draws them up, coaxing him to lean forward. Pogue leans over Tyler’s back, bending him forward and Tyler braces one hand on the edge of the coffee table as Pogue lengthens his thrusts and uses the space for leverage to pull out of him before thrusting back in.

Tyler can feel his orgasm approaching and it’s just too soon. Yes, they have to hurry, and there’s even a growing ache of unsatisfied need in his belly that urges him on, but he doesn’t want it to stop either. He’s trembling with exertion and Pogue’s sweaty skin is sliding and slapping against his own. They can both feel their blood pumping heavy like the beating of drums in the back of their throats. Tyler bites his bottom lip in an effort to silence his moans and cries. Pogue growls a soft, protesting sound into the back of his neck, then nips him there where sweat has gathered in the fine hairs at the back of his neck. Tyler’s mouth falls open and he shudders. His skin is chilled from his drying sweat and Pogue’s warm breath on the back of his neck makes him shiver.

Pogue slips an arm around Tyler’s waist and pulls him back again as he sits back down on the sofa. Tyler’s hands shake as he lifts them to drag his fingers through his own sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face. He rolls his hips as Pogue flexes his thighs under him and Tyler rides him. There is no relief from the tight fullness of Pogue’s cock inside him like that and Tyler whimpers and moans as it strokes against his prostate.

Faint silver light from the TV washes over Tyler’s pale, sweaty skin and Pogue watches it, following the dance of black and white along his body. It is far from the first time he has looked at Tyler and thought him beautiful, but it still surprises him. The room has gone dark as the sun goes down outside and the black and white movie on the TV casts Tyler’s image into stark, glittering contrast. He has his eyes closed in pleasure, his head thrown back on Pogue’s shoulder and, as Pogue watches, Tyler runs his tongue out over his lips and licks away beads of his own sweat. He is thoroughly debauched and Pogue holds him with a strange feeling of affection that even now catches him by surprise. It is combined with a deep, abiding desire that surprises him less and less.

When Tyler comes, it is sudden and his orgasm catches him by surprise. He claps a hand over his mouth to hold back the scream that rises in his throat, but Pogue catches his wrist and yanks it away, forcing Tyler’s cries to go unmuffled into the room. Pogue fucks him through it, grinding his hips against Tyler’s ass as Tyler shudders. He’s panting and he turns his head on Pogue’s shoulder, breath hitching in his throat as he presses soft kisses to the side of Pogue’s throat. He flicks his tongue over the rapid pulse under Pogue’s jaw and Pogue closes his eyes. With a growl, he takes Tyler’s mouth in a deep kiss. His orgasm crashes through him like lightning and this time it’s Tyler that shoves him back and breaks the kiss. When he comes, Pogue cries out and it’s sharp and thrilling, crashing in the dark.

Pogue wraps his arms around Tyler’s waist and holds him, both of them exhausted and chilled by the cooling sweat on their skin, content to stay like this. On the TV, the boys are in Sam the Lion’s black and white poolroom and Jeff Bridges is impossibly young, just a kid. The light from the TV is brighter now, more silver, because the sun has gone down completely and there are no other lights on in the house. They hadn’t turned them on. Still, it looks soft around the edges now and not so stark.

“Pogue,” Tyler says tiredly after a little while. “Pogue?”

“Hmm, what?” Pogue says.

Tyler licks his lips and turns his head on Pogue’s shoulder to look into his face. He’s smiling and Pogue sees it through his half closed eyes. “We have to get up,” Tyler says. “I have to clean the coffee table.”

This is such an absurd and incongruous thing to say under the circumstances that Pogue frowns at him and doesn’t move to let him up.

“I’m serious,” Tyler says. Now he gently pushes at Pogue’s arm and squirms in his lap to get up.

Pogue hisses a breath through his teeth and lets him go. “What the hell for?”

“Because I got come on it, idiot,” Tyler says, laughing at him now as he climbs up from the sofa. “Understanding as she is right now, I don’t think your mom would be okay with that.”

Pogue snorts amusement at the idea of his mother sitting down after she got home that night with her nightcap to watch _Saturday Night Live_ or _Jay Leno_ as she usually did before she went to bed. She wouldn’t notice it right away, but when she picked up her tumbler and got to the bottom, she might find the glass smeared with something. She might not know what it was right away because as a single mother of a single grown son, who had his own bedroom complete with a bathroom to jerk off in if he so desired, she would never imagine such a thing would appear on her living room coffee table. However, she was not stupid and she knew about Pogue and Tyler, so she would soon deduce what the milky clear slippery stuff was.

“No, she’d be pissed,” Pogue says. He grins as he imagines it, then starts when there’s a loud knock on the front door.

“Oh shit, it’s the pizza guy,” Tyler says, standing there by the table naked and thoroughly debauched looking. He snatches up his pants from the floor and prods Pogue’s leg. “Go get it.”

Pogue huffs a deep sigh and hauls himself up from the sofa. He takes a step toward the foyer before he stops, turns back to the sofa and gets his jeans off of the floor. He steps into them and is still fastening his belt when he opens the door and catches the pizza delivery guy with his hand raised to knock again.

“Oh,” the boy says. “You guys ordered a pizza?”

He _is_ a boy, probably just over sixteen and this is his first job. He stares at Pogue standing there in the doorway half naked and there is no mistaking why he is answering the door like this. His long hair is finger-combed and disheveled, he’s shirtless and still lightly sweaty, he’s pulling the tongue of his belt through the buckle as he opens the door and even if none of this were true, there is a mellow, sated look about him that would give him away still. The boy is just young enough and human enough that he shifts on his feet and glances over Pogue’s shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of a girl. Maybe a half naked one in only a bra and panties. Looking at Pogue, he doesn’t doubt that she would be pretty and well worth looking at.

Pogue’s sex-sleepy, not slow. He was a sixteen year old boy not that long ago and he knows what the pizza kid is thinking. Amused, he leans in the doorway. “How much?”

“Huh?” the boy says. He focuses and has the grace to blush. “Sorry. Ah, large double pepperoni. Fifteen bucks.”

Pogue half-turns to call to Tyler in the living room. “Ty, bring me my wallet, will you? I think I dropped it on the floor.”

He knows he dropped it on the floor. It fell out of his jeans when he pushed them down.

He waits there in the doorway watching the delivery boy become more and more uncomfortable. He can hear Tyler moving around in the living room and he smiles at the boy, who looks away, flushing deeply red.

Tyler comes into the foyer, takes one look over Pogue’s shoulder at the kid on the porch, and rolls his eyes. He smacks Pogue’s wallet against his shoulder and Pogue takes it. “Don’t be a jerk,” Tyler tells him. He goes back into the house.

Now that he’s seen Tyler, who is clearly not a girl, the delivery boy is so embarrassed that he keeps his eyes firmly locked on the floor of the porch between his feet. He takes the pizza out of the hot carrier and passes it to Pogue, then feels in his change case for the change for the twenty dollar bill Pogue paid him with.

“Keep it,” Pogue says. He’s already closing the door when the boy looks up at him and stutters his thanks. “No problem.”

Tyler’s washing his hands at the sink when Pogue takes the pizza into the kitchen. He drops it down on the counter, flips the top of the box open, and takes a slice. He watches Tyler move around the kitchen while he eats it. Tyler gets them both a beer from the fridge, then leans on the island counter across from Pogue to eat his own slice of pizza. Together they eat most of the pizza, drink their beer and then go upstairs to Pogue’s room to use the shower. They stay in the shower together a long time, touching and kissing between washing, and they come very close to skipping off on the bonfire party altogether.

In the end, they go. Tyler puts on one of Pogue’s shirts and a pair of his jeans. The jeans are a little too large for him so he cinches his belt tightly and wears a sweater that hangs over it. His own clothes he puts in the laundry. They pack a case of beer from the refrigerator into the truck with a grocery bag containing all the makings for s’mores that Tyler bought before they returned to Pogue’s place, then they drive out to the middle of nowhere to find the party.

~~*~~

The party is in a clearing in the middle of a forest, at the bottom of a rocky hill, five miles in almost any direction from the ocean. It’s state land and if they’re caught there lighting fires in the middle of so much dry grass and rotting tree waste, they’ll all be fined so much that they’ll still be paying it off when they’re in their thirties. Because they don’t intend to get caught, they take the party deep into the woods, are careful to mind the fires for sparks, and set up a place for someone to keep watch. The boys responsible for organizing the party take turns keeping an eye out until all five of them are too drunk to keep their eyes open, then it’s every man (and woman) for themselves.

Everyone they know is already there when Pogue and Tyler get there. They carry the things they’ve brought with them until they find a bonfire where Kate, Sarah and Reid are. There are empty beer cans and bottles around the fire pit and Reid is doing impressions of famous people like Jimmy Fallon that are making Kate and Sarah howl with drunken laughter.

Tyler and Pogue look around for Caleb and don’t see him anywhere. Noticing them standing there looking around, Sarah half stands, loses her balance before she’s even unfolded her legs and plops back down. “He had to pee,” she tells them.

Tyler raises a brow at her. “Who did?”

“Caleb, dummy,” Sarah says. “He went to find a private bush.”

Reid, Kate and Sarah all think this is hilarious. Pogue and Tyler exchange an amused look, then go over to the fire and sit down. The instant they settle down by the fire, Reid is climbing over Pogue to steal a beer. He’s drunk and keeps falling on him.

“Careful, Reid. Tyler might think you’re trying to steal his man,” Sarah says.

They all freeze the way people do when someone has said something they have all been thinking but have not dared to say. They stare at each other in shocked silence for a minute, then fall all over each other laughing uproariously. Reid finally manages to get off of Pogue, his pilfered beer held securely over his head as he falls into the grass beside him, still laughing.

“God, I can’t _believe_ you two are… you know,” Kate says when she can speak.

“Fucking,” Tyler suggests. He opens a bag of jumbo marshmallows and impales one on a stick.

Kate looks a little uncomfortable with his crassness, but she smiles to herself a little, too. “Yeah.”

“Believe it,” Reid says. He takes a drink of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, then takes a deep, gasping breath when he stops. “I saw,” he says, pointing at Kate with the bottom of his beer bottle.

Kate blinks in surprise. “You _did_?”

“He did not,” Pogue says. He cups his hand around a cigarette to block it from the soft breeze coming through the trees and lights it. “You never _saw_ anything.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Sarah says. She speaks with the slow slur of someone who has had way more than just one too many. “It is. It’s sweet.”

“It’s kinda hot, too,” Kate says. They all stare at her, but Kate just smirks and holds her hand out for Pogue to pass her a beer. He doesn’t even bat an eye, just reaches over to take one from the case, twists the top off and gives it to her. “Think about it,” Kate tells Sarah.

“I don’t _want_ to think about it,” Reid says, flailing a little.

Sarah considers it, her gaze sliding from Tyler plucking at the hot, stringy sugar of his roasted marshmallow with his fingers to Pogue, lounging on his elbows beside him, a beer held loosely in one hand, a cigarette in his mouth as smoke drifts from his nose when he exhales. She doesn’t know how long she stares at them, but after a little while, Kate just laughs, taking Sarah’s silent, contemplative regard as enough to confirm her point.

Tyler gives Sarah a teasing look and offers her the marshmallows. Sarah takes one and nibbles on it absently. Tyler squishes his own marshmallow between chocolate and graham crackers, then takes a bite with a satisfied little moan. Kate watches him and Pogue watches her watching him and smirks.

“Gross, you guys,” Reid says. “If this turns into an orgy, I’m outta here.”

Pogue reaches over and gently shoves him. “You’re not invited.”

Reid is already laying on his side propped up on an elbow, but he still flops over limply. “Where’s Caleb?” he says, pitching his voice toward a shout. “That’s lame. I need backup. I demand backup. Caleb!”

“Hey,” Caleb says, walking toward them from another fire where he was visiting some people. “Keep it down, Reid.”

“Ugh,” Reid says from his sprawled position in the grass. “Always such a mommy, Caleb. Give it a rest.”

“Hey, man,” Pogue says. He offers Caleb a beer as he sits down.

Caleb takes the beer and exchanges a knowing look with Pogue. It’s a peace offering and his acceptance of it means that he knows that. Caleb nods to him as he twists the top off. “Hey,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Looks like your girl’s down for the count,” Pogue observes, nodding to Sarah, who is laying on her side with her head pillowed on her bent arm, breathing deeply.

Caleb gives her a fond look and reaches over to brush blond behind her ear. “Yeah. You guys got here kinda late,” he says.

Pogue doesn’t say anything, just smiles. He drops the butt of his cigarette into his empty beer bottle and shakes it, extinguishing the ember with the remaining liquid in the bottom. Somewhere not that far off, music is playing and the bass of it drifts to them and thumps in the ground under them.

“Pogue, you know it’s illegal, don’t you?” Caleb says suddenly.

They all look at Caleb and frown. Even Reid picks his head up from the ground long enough to squint irritably at him.

“What’s illegal?” Pogue says, though he thinks he knows.

“You and him,” Caleb says, gesturing to Tyler with his beer. “Age of consent is eighteen, you know. You better hope no one says anything.”

They all continue to stare at Caleb like he’s suddenly started speaking in tongues. Pogue clenches his hands into fists and has to restrain himself from reaching over the fire to punch Caleb in the teeth. Beside him, Tyler is tense but silent. His bright blue eyes are alight with emotion like the sparks of gas flames. Reid and Kate sit there with their mouths slightly open in dumbfounded silence. Even though they all know how badly Caleb had been taking it, even though they knew about the fight between him and Pogue and they all feel the tense way that Pogue and Caleb move around each other like they’re spoiling for another one, none of them can quite believe that Caleb is saying what he’s saying. That he is _suggesting_ what he is suggesting. They don’t deal with things that way _ever_ and this thing between Tyler and Pogue is ultimately between Tyler and Pogue. It’s something that, as Caleb loves them, he has to let go.

Something jumps through the fire and smacks Caleb in the forehead. It’s a lightly toasted marshmallow and it sticks there for a second before the weight of the gooey thing makes it drop, trailing stringy marshmallow sugar from Caleb’s head to his lap where it falls. Caleb doesn’t react at first, not sure what’s happened.

“Shut the fuck up, Caleb,” Tyler says. He licks sticky marshmallow residue from his fingers.

Caleb glares at him, then lowers his eyes to the gob of marshmallow in his lap with a puzzled frown. He picks it up and slings it away, threads of marshmallow clinging to his fingertips.

“You’re a jackass,” Tyler says flatly. He gets up from the ground and pulls at Pogue’s arm to get him to stand up with him. “Come on, I want to dance.”

There are couples a little distance off drunkenly swaying together and grinding against each other. They’re enthusiastic, though completely out of rhythm. Although Pogue will allow that “I’m Waiting for the Man” by The Velvet Underground is a pretty difficult song to find a rhythm to dance to anyway. Tyler drags him into the thick of the small crowd and because Pogue doesn’t know what Tyler wants from him, he lets him lead. The song changes to “Break on Through” by The Doors and Pogue just pulls Tyler against him and they do what all the other couples do; they pretend to dance. Doors music is always surreal and, though they’re not drunk themselves, the mood of placid, silly joy in everyone bumping against them as they all stomp the grass beneath their feet into the dirt is infectious. They end up swaying together just like everyone else until, as one, the whole crowd of dancers is almost swaying together, too.

“He’ll get over it,” Pogue tells Tyler at some point.

Tyler gives him a tight, unhappy smile and plays his fingers in the back of Pogue’s hair. “You really think so, don’t you?”

Pogue kisses him lightly. “Eventually.”

 

  
**XXX**   



End file.
